


Pinning a Butterfly

by Turtlepearlove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlepearlove/pseuds/Turtlepearlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Severus has a rather 'apple pie' life, swept away suddenly by a strange boy with blonde hair and eyes that speak nothing but adventures and life that he cannot comprehend. But love has a strange way of changing people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinning a Butterfly

"Al you are here” Lorcan Scamander had something blood red swishing in his hands as he makes his way to Albus. His long hair is pulled back in an odd sort of ponytail and his shirt shines a different colour with every step he takes.

Albus thinks he is getting a head ache. The music is loud and reverberates a painful thump inside his skull, the enchanted lights flash red to green, Al sighs“I was getting bored at home” he shouts over the music. Lorcan smiles amiably and thrusts the red drink into Albus’s empty hands “you need to loosen up mate” His “I don’t drink” is drowned by the change in music and Lorcan abandons him in favour of a gaggle of giggling girls his brother’s chatting up.

 

“You are drinking?” James slurs, eyes widening “I thought it was bad for your quidditch form.  
Albus ignores the question, James looks far too drunk to be holding another shot of what appears to be butterbooze. “I am so proud of you lil bro” James dramatically throws his arms over him “I never thought I would live to see this day”

 

Al just shifts uncomfortably as another gaggle of teens rush past him, a few of them throwing appreciative glances. Al tries his best to smile, with his brother draped half over him, it comes as an odd sort of grimace. It is only after he deposits James into the safety of a couch does he make his way out. He catches a glimpse of blood red hair that could only belong to his sister, he doesn’t follow her.

 

He makes his way to the kitchen, bumping into several people and avoiding the eyes of those he knows. The punch tastes like alcohol, and Albus sighs again. It was strange that he was the only one of his sibling who hated the party scene and feels oddly lonely.  
James had been the official party king of Gryffindor, using their father’s cloak to steal in bottles of firewhiskey, Lilly had followed suit.

 

Now Al stood awkwardly in a party full of people he knew and out of place that he saw the silhouette outside in the garden, Al could only make out the pale hair and the flare of red of his cigarette. He found himself climbing out of the window into the dimly lit garden for no apparent reason.

 

“That’s not really good for you” he said, when he was close enough to the stranger in the garden. The boy tilted his head and threw Al a look of vague amusement “and you think I care because…”

 

Al couldn’t help but shrug feeling somewhat uncomfortable. But that he was/wasn’t aware of it, those wannabe hipster kids that plagued most of Lorcan’s parties. Skinny jeans and multiple piercings and more drugs in their systems that what should have been. ‘Everyone experiments’ like James constantly liked to point out, but there were these emo kids, with their bottle blonde/brunette hair and tongue rings that pushed those limits a little too far.  
Everyone knew of course, and the select few who took it too far.

His hoodie was drawn up flashing the merest hint of white hair, the long sleeves covered his arms, probably ridden with scars Al thought.

“why are you outside?”  
The boy gave another one of his wry grins “it’s a bit crowded there”

That being an understatement of course, the house was literally overflowing with people. Al nodded “a bit I suppose”  
The boy took another long drag of his cigarette “I am Scor”

“Like quidditch Score?”

‘Scor’ shot him an annoyed look “short for Scorpius”  
“I am Albus” he said smiling pulling his hands out of his pockets, despite his brain shooting off the warning signals “call me Al”  
Albus could barely make out his features in the dark, with the shimmering fairy lights that seemed to glow and fade Scor looked oddly ethereal.

Scor offered Al a drag of his cigarette, “I don’t smoke” he didn’t try hiding his frown.  
“Its not just a cigarette” he replied taking a long drag and shooting white halos into the night sky.

Al was the most cautious amongst his siblings, yet there he was talking to a boy that even his siblings knew enough to stay away from. “So how do you know Lorcan?”  
The boy looked confused “Lorcan who?” “I just came in cause it looked like free booze”  
Al didn’t know if he was joking or not.

“Not Hogwarts then?”

Scor shrugged, “wanna take a walk?” he said instead. Standing there with white blonde hair falling over his eyes, Al could barely make out the sharp fall of his jaw line.  
His lips looked dry.  
“Sure”

Scor liked to talk, Al found out. About the baby crup he rescued or his “sucky” part time job or how he finds it frustrating that electricity dies out in wizarding areas.  
“I think my mom would have an apoplexy if I suggested a summer job” Al mused, he wouldn’t have minded the quiet time.  
Not that he didn’t adore his family, but with Teddy’s visits, Lilly’s giggling entourage and James’s friends finding a couple of minutes of quiet time in Gordic’s hollow seemed impossible.  
Scor seemed amused by that fact, “don’t think dad notices I am gone” he said nonchalantly, for an emo kid Al expected a little more of angst but none seemed forth coming. It seemed far too soon when Scor stood awkwardly near the intersection, “this is where I leave”  
Al shifted slightly, he didn’t want to leave.  
“So when do I see you?”  
The streetlight cast tawny shadows on his white blonde hair and he smiles, a strange one sided quirk of his red lips that resembles a smirk than a smile.  
“We’ll see” he said reaching up to ruffle the mess that was Al’s hair.  
And before Albus can come up with a suitable reply, he laughs and bounds into the empty streets. Al feels a warmth settle in his stomach like Sunday morning brownies mom makes or that perfect throw that sends the quaffle sailing through the hoop.  
He smiles.  
No one actually knows a boy named Scor and descriptions are wasted on Lorcan.  
“What’s so special about this boy?” There is a hint of amusement in his voice and Al doesn’t dare push in the fear of the endless jokes that would invariably follow.  
“Nothing” he would reply but when Al closes his eyes all he thinks are those white blonde locks and strange smiles.

And Al scourges the nearby coffee shops trying hard not to creep around or see all the waiters there, he almost gives up then, a week later Al sees him again, leaning against a wall with an apron tied. His pale blonde hair is tied back; he looks small against the wall, shoulders hunched as he takes another drag.  
“Scor” Albus exclaims and he straightens immediately  
“Wow! this is a surprise” he smiles, grey eyes crinkling “my name is David here” he points towards his golden name tag pinned to his apron.  
Albus nods, still surprised to see the boy.  
“You work at a muggle café?  
Scor shrugs, and burns out the last of his cigarette “Just during the hols?”

A muggle woman with brown hair peers out of the door, “Dave your five minutes is up”  
Scor straightens immediately and strides in, Albus thinks it makes him look older.  
“I don’t get off for another hour” his tone is apologetic as he stands behind the counter.  
“I can wait”  
And thus Albus blows off his evening quidditch game for a cup of badly made cappuccino and doughnut and watches Scor behind the counter with “What can I get you sir?” and a toothy smile.  
He doesn’t think it’s a moment wasted.

Scor gets his shift done and leaves with a faded jeans that looks bleached white and black shirt that accents his sinewy arms and his toned stomach.  
Al feels his throat dry up.

“I am starved” he announces and throws a glance at Albus. “I know this amazing place…muggle though”  
Albus whose muggle interactions are limited to Telly, takeouts and muggle fad parties that Lorcan throws, nods enthusiastically. Scor smiles and walks towards a motorbike “You don’t mind right?” he asks.  
Albus gulps “sure why not?”  
“I think dad would kill me if I ever owned one” he says looking enviously at the shiny black contraption.  
“Drives mine insane” he said with a smug smile, but the hardness in his eyes was unmistakable.  
“What about your mom?”  
“Left when I was a kid” he says throwing a spare helmet at Al. Albus feels terrible for bringing it up.

The Thai restaurant turned out to be a shady place with a dingy overhead sign that creaked ominously when Al opened the door.  
“This is nice”  
Scor smirked at that, “Not so much of an ambience” he admitted as he sat down on a chair, the restaurant was unsurprisingly empty.  
Al really wished he could cast a discreet ‘scourgify’ but he supposed this was not one of the ministry approved’ life or death’ situation.

The pad Thai is amazing and even more when Scor abandons his chop sticks to pick up the pieces of prawn with his fingers “I don’t know who though it was a good idea to eat noodles with two sticks”

Al nods but eats with the chop sticks, thanks to his mom’s sudden love for take out somewhere during his 2nd year Al is well versed with the art of eating with chop sticks and Pizza boxes as plates. His dad had been hopeless of course and James preferred sticking it up his nose and pretending to be a walrus than actually use it for eating.

Scor licks the sauce off his fingers and sighs “this is heaven” he says smiling and all Al can see is the tip of his red tongue dart out and lick the sauce away, the line of his pale white throat and that curve of his collar bone  
“Yes” he agrees.

Albus finds that his thoughts seem to entirely revolve around Scor.  
It is an all together unnerving experience, despite the general openness with which his mates dealt with relationships of both sexes, Al had never been attracted to a boy. And not one especially so edgy, Scor looked like the boys nana Molly referred to as ‘bad influences’ and Al had lived the life of a saint.  
His early ambitions in Quidditch had left him obsessively concerned over his form, his grades had to be high enough to remain in the team and every other aspect of his life revolved around the same. It felt strange to abandon his normal pursuits in favor of that one boy, for that one person who seemed to have taken over his mind entirely. 

But Al didn't mind at all. On his weekend practice sessions with the neighborhood boys when Al caught sight of that unmistakable head of blonde hair.  
“You are here” he said, not without the surprise at Scor lounging causally on the stands like he belonged there.

Scor raised his omnioculars “came prepared and everything!” and Al shoots into the sky with sweaty palms and a grin on his lips that he can’t quiet hide, even when Lois raises her eyebrows and looks speculatively at Scor.

Scor waits patiently till Al is done with Quidditch and changed into his clean white shirt and jeans. Scor throws him a spare helmet as soon as Al makes it out of the lockers “lets go down to the docks”  
Al thinks its too sunny to be outdoors and how he would love to sink into a couch with something cool to drink.  
And Scor stands there slightly rocking on the balls of his feet, the sunlight catches his hair in an almost golden glint and Al agrees.

The dock is strangely silent for that time of the day and the sunlight reflects the water light in a harsh blue that makes Al squint. Scor disappears for a while and returns with two cones of ice cream and hands Al the suspiciously purple one and bites into the chocolates.  
“What flavour is this?”  
Scor smiles, “you need to taste it to find out”  
After the incident involving James and earwax bertie’s every flavor jellybeans Al has always been suspicious of strangely coloured treats.  
“Just tell me”  
Scor throws back his head and laughs “you really need to experiment more” and waggles his eyebrows.  
When Al refuses to take a bite he reaches over and takes a long swipe at the ice cream “perfectly safe” and grins.  
Al feels intoxicated, maybe it’s the heat, the burst of sweetness of his ice cream or the glare of blue blue water that makes him woozy, he reaches over and tugs Scor’s hair and brings his face closer and kisses him.  
And near the docks, warm and sticky and a mixture of bubblegum ice cream and chocolate Al thinks it’s the best kiss he has ever had.  
Finally when Al draws back, Scor smiles his grey eyes crescent moons and tugs Al back in for another.

When Al decides to go for Nott's party, it's not because James whines pathetically that he needs someone to make sure he got home safe but because he hopes to run into Scor there.  
The house is almost filled to the brim when Al reaches there with psychedelic music and colours that make his head spin. He is half surprised to see Lysander there, never a good sign and sees Scor leaning against the wall quiet close to the other boy.  
“Al my good man” he says pulling Al into a bone crushing hug, he smells like expensive perfume and alcohol , Al cringes.  
Scor shoots him a wry grin and Lysander pulls him forward “you must try this” and pushes something milky green into his hands, Scor has something similar in his hands. “And I see you’ve met Scor already” he grins broadly with a hint of teeth that makes it look almost primal “my dear protégée”  
Scor mock gags at that “you always say that when you are drunk”  
Lysander slips him something discreet “in case you wanna have fun” and smiles again.  
Al’s palms itches to drag him away from Lysander and the look in his eyes that make his skin crawl.

It wasn’t a moment too soon when Scor decided to join Al in the hall,  
“What was that about?” Al tried his best to keep jealousy out of his voice, Scor grinned “nothing nothing” and slipped out a blue container instead, there were two tiny pink pills.

AL would have choked on his drink if he was drinking anything, “nothing serious” Scor says slipping one pink pill in, “a bit of, what do you say?, sensory amplifier”  
“It’s a drug” Al says flatly “an illegal, extremely destructive one at that”  
“Its just ‘m’ Al” he drawls “everyone has it, you don’t have to be so fucking anal about it”  
Albus feels like punching him, he really does. It’s stupid and risky and Al just wants to shake some sense into him.  
So he just gets up and leaves “do whatever the fuck you want”

Al had settled for the company of a lovely miss Emily-call-me-Em something who put her arms around him and breathes too loudly.  
It took Al only 20 minutes to find Scor again, who seemed to settle contently on the arm chair with Adrienne Nott.

Adrienne was a Slytherin, his year with blue eyes that glinted steely, the cold sort. There was no real beauty about her, no quidditch records, and no great intelligence, nothing that would provoke Albus’s attention towards her. But there was the self assurance, the prissy princess air that she carried herself with her nose upturned as if the rest of humanity was the filth underneath her pointed heels.

Al would have assumed 'pure-blood pride', but no one dared talk about it openly anymore, not after Voldemort, but with the Nott's Parkinson's and Zabini's, he knew that was the case. He was surprised to see Scor with someone like her.

Scor was slumped against her, strangely enough her fingers stroking Scor’s hair carefully, something in her eyes that Al couldn’t fathom. He waited there until Scor looked up, with bleary unfocussed eyes and a sluggish sort of smile.  
“I knew you would come back”  
The urge to pound something comes rushing back.

Adrienne looks up then, eyes half lidded, lips quirked in a smirk.  
“And what have I told you darling” her fingers softly stroking Scor’s hair “about bringing new ones”  
Scor doesn’t reply just snuggles closer to the crook of her neck “Ade” he whispers softly “Not a new one” he says “it’s the same old one”  
Adrienne sighs “my room is third one to the left upstairs” she says, “he’s too high to go home”  
Al doesn’t want to take orders from her, not from Adrienne Nott the prissy little bitch, but then Scor looks up dazed with a hint of pink on his cheeks that Al can’t bring himself to protest.

The room is strangely muggle looking and just one huge poster of some rock band that didn't move.  
“She likes muggle things” Scor drawled stumbling towards the bed “Pisses her dad off”  
Al thinks mind healers have a huge market with Slytherin kids and daddy issues but helps Scor onto the bed. “Sleep it off” he says removing Scor’s sneakers that had seen better days.  
He nods at that, drawing blankets up “Al you are not new” it sounds more like a question “never new”  
"I've always always liked you" he promises and curls his fist against the hem of Al’s sweater and mumbles what sounds like ‘stay’.

Al wants to stay mad, has his mind made up when he walks back home at night kicking rocks savagely.  
But the next day morning after quidditch practice Scor stands there smiling holding a sticky ice cream and thrusts it into Al’s face and says “let’s go to the docks” and all is forgiven.

Al hates Scor drinking, not on a moral high ground but because Scor always over does it. With lagers of firewhiskey and then butterbooze and strange muggle concoctions called tequila. And then he would cling on to Al, talking his ear off with nonsensical stories about his baby crup or the time he attempted to ride the peacocks in the manor.

“And then father said ‘Do not go near the peacocks’ and healed my arm” he pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie to show Al a faint line of white skin “ didn't do a good job cause he was drunk”  
Al watched the swath of pale skin that felt soft beneath his finger tips “Dad’s always drunk” he said softly pressing his face against the crook of Al’s neck.

And then Scor was kissing him, with this desperate pleading urgency, fingers curling against the cotton of Al’s shirt, Hips thrusting upwards and making those oh so delightful mewing noises that shot straight to Al’s groin.  
And Al enjoyed mapping Scor’s body with kisses, the way he shivered softly when Al’s mouth found that spot beneath the crook of his ears, the way his muscles rippled when Al sucked on his belly button ring.  
It didn't last that long, just a few upward thrusts from Scor’s body and that delicious friction and soon Al was seeing painted stars behind his closed eyes lids and Scor’s moist breathing down his neck.

Scor was like Al’s drug, like a whirlwind of color and noise that took his breath away. Al for the first time in his life blew summer quidditch away for the hot sun, sticky muggle ice cream and spending days on the dock with the blue blue water. And late nights in stranger’s house, parties and Al’s firewhiskey scented kisses.

It happened that one night that Albus decided to stay home. There was still summer homework piling up and Scor said he wanted to visit his grandmother.  
Jame’s panicked face appeared over the floo network “Oh AL thank God you are here”  
“Al that kid you hang out with OD’d, he is out cold”  
It was a wonder that Al was coherent enough to get out the seat let alone make his way to the house.  
Scor was in seizures, “Fuck take him to St.Mungo’s you idiots” Al said trying single handily lifting him.  
“Fuck Al you can’t do that” It was Lysander’s pale face that appeared “M is illegal, all of us could fucking go to Azkaban”  
It was in the tip of Al’s tongue to say that is where he belonged.

Nevertheless Adrienne Nott found a bezoar and Al propped him up and forced him to swallow.  
Scor made it out that day, and Al sat beside him on the bed all night awake tracing the fading pink of his arms, a collage of self inflicted scars and drug needle marks.  
For the first time in his life he felt utterly helpless, half mad at Scor’s lies about his whereabouts, but much much worse about the curled up boy beside him.  
Scor was a bit like a shooting star, all fire before the big burn out and all Al could seem to do is watch in fascination.

The fight that followed was inevitable, but Al did give Scor a day to recover, hovering around him in cold silence.

“You know this shit happens” Scor began exasperatedly at the end of the day “I am sorry that I OD’d , I should have been more careful”  
“What the fuck Scor, you think that’s what the issue is?”  
Albus clenched his fists in an attempt not to strike out. “You are not my parent Al, quit acting like one”  
“Yea I am not your father, cause clearly he is not doing a good job”  
“Don't talk about my father, don't you dare" Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he has crossed a line, his dad always said that Al had anger issues, but it was white hot rage that blinded him as he grabbed Scor and pushed him towards the wall.  
“Fuck you Scor, fuck your stupid decisions and Fuck you for dragging me along your stupid twisted life”  
Scor laughs at that, it sounds hollows and empty “Well you are free to leave, but just don't fucking pretend that you give a damn"  
“Of course I fucking care Scor, what the hell do you think I am doing with you?”

Scor gave a short barking laugh as a retort “Really Albus Severus Potter”  
Al growled in reply, tightening his grip around Scor's wrists.  
"You fucked me Al, do you even know my full name?"  
Al's eyes widen in shock, his grip on Scorpius loosens. “For God’s sake, you didn’t even recognize me even though we have shared potions for the last 7 years” and wrenched his arm free from Al’s death grip.

It took a few minutes for Scor’s words to sink and then hours to recognize what a fool he was.  
But by then Scorpius was long gone, his lips pinched and eyes unreadable.

He asked around, to conclude certain obvious facts, that Scor was Scorpius Malfoy with the alcoholic father and a run away mother. The kid with white blonde hair that he dyed black not to stand out.  
The kid that James and Hugo used to pick on constantly.

And the worst part was Al did know about Scorpius, he did know about the five day suspension that James got in fourth year for picking on some kid, he remembers James's justification "he is a death-eater's son" and to Albus then, sounded like a good enough reason to pick on someone.

“You really are stupid” Rose said finally pulling him into a comforting hug anyway. And she didn't ask questions or those uncomfortable glances that mom and dad passed at dinner.

And the rest of the month passed fast enough as Al spend moody days locked up and mulling over unread books and wondering how the hell he couldn't have noticed. With Scor’s smiles, those half lidded glances, that twist of lips that smirked more than smiled, and that familiar drawl that Slytherin's had. Scor had left the coffee shop and any other recognizable places where they met.  
Even when Al dragged himself to those pointless parties and stared outside empty windows to find that particular mop pf blonde hair amongst the milling crowds.  
He never did.

Finally it was on the day of leaving to Hogwarts that he saw Scor again, in the train station, standing awkwardly behind a man Al assumed to be his father.  
It took all of Al’s courage to grab Scor before he disappeared into the masses “I know I am a fool” he said “But at least give me a chance”  
Behind that impassive face only Al could see the looming insecurity, the unbidden worries, and the never told secrets.  
“Why does it even matter?” he questioned.

It didn’t seem to of course. Al who had constantly battled against the looming shadows cast by his parents and siblings had fought so hard as to not remain hidden.  
He wasn't great at studies, at quidditch, at making friends, everything he had came with a great deal of hard work. And he was proud, no doubt, of the fact people remembered Albus Severus Potter for his skills than his last name.  
Was he so willing to throw all that away so easily?  
For a barely there relationship, the opinions of his peers, the approval of his parents for a boy who blew in the winter storms without a promise to stay.

But for all the time it took Al to think it through, he realized it didn’t matter. At the corner of his eye he could see his parents approaching, Mom’s eyes wide in surprise and Mr.Malfoy’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.  
He could feel his cousin’s questioning looks or even James’s soon to be obvious disgust and maybe even the whole school’s disapproval.  
When he leaned over and captured Scor’s lips in a short breath taking moment, he could feel all of it disappear, his pressure, his expectations, of what he was supposed to be. And in that weightlessness he whispered “It matters cause I love you” and jumped into the train with every one’s mouth hanging open.

“I think your dad hates me” Al finally said when they both recovered from bouts of laughter.  
“I know” said Scor and kissed Al again.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted at Livejournal.


End file.
